


Good Feeling

by maniclust



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Giving thanks, Incest, Light BDSM, M/M, Male Slash, Obsession, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Rumors, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Slash, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2019-06-19 21:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15518880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniclust/pseuds/maniclust





	Good Feeling

[”And all I ask of you is what I’d give for free. I ask the Lord for mercy, I’m begging on my knees. If we’re to live together, for what we hope and pray then we must give each other a little love to find our way.”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agisEHk6Ca4)

Everyone has that puzzle in their life. The one with thousands of pieces that all look the same when spread out before you on the table. You know that they all fit together perfectly somehow, but after many hours of love and attention, you still only have small sections pieced together. Sometimes, it looks like something fits just right and you sit back in triumph at seeing the pieces fitting snugly together only to look closer and find there is a small gap - you’ve chosen wrong.

The outside is easy. You isolate all of the edge pieces, sorting them into colors and working them together one by one. It isn’t meant to be hard to complete. But the outside is just that - outside. What really matters is all of the pieces that make up the middle. The real picture you’re trying to assemble lies within that perfect rectangular frame. Sometimes you manage to piece it all together and other times it just drives you mad. Until one day, you get so frustrated that you slam your hands into the perfectly constructed pieces and throw them all on the floor. 

Even then, as you walk away from the shattered illusion you know… you will be back. Solving it is an obsession. A need. Nothing will ever matter to you more than completing that puzzle.

Taylor is my puzzle. 

My enigma.

My obsession.

He knows what he does to me, he’s not stupid. When he’s out there on stage he’s not playing for them as much as he’s playing for me. Not because he loves me and wants to give me something special, but because he knows that if he gets his hook into me I’ll do anything that he wants. If he slides the right piece of the puzzle across the table, I’ll snatch it up and put it into place, rewarding him for letting me in just a little bit. 

I’ve had enough. I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m not going to let him use me while giving me so very little in return. He could have anyone that he wants so it won’t be any loss if I don’t give him my attention. He will move on to someone else and maybe I can finally find some peace.

The room is full of people, but he doesn’t care. He never has. He thrives on it and knows that it makes them talk. Makes them wonder. He loves being the center of the conversation even if it means dragging me into it as well. I’ve seen him on the internet, smirking at the speculation, using it against me. Tonight is no different.

I’m heading back onto the stage, toward the piano. His piano. I try not to think of the sight of him behind my drum kit and I’m glad that I will have my back toward him. I won’t be able to see the glances that he casts my way. The ones that leave me looking up youtube videos hoping to see. But, I don’t even make it that far. Before I can sit down at the instrument, his hands are on me. Digging into my waist. His breath in my ear. 

“You look gorgeous tonight. I can’t wait to watch you sing,” he whispers. He’s too close for comfort. Closer than a brother should stand in front of an audience or, well, ever. I falter. My eyes close and I know he’s done it again. Cameras are flashing, catching the moment, and he’s just thrown fuel on the fire of the rumors. It is what he needs. It’s what he will use later to get exactly what he wants.

I manage to pull it together and perform. For a few seconds, I think I’m going to forget how to play, how to sing, how to breathe, but it all comes back to me. If he pushed me too far, it would take the fun out of it for him. He doesn’t want me to scatter the puzzle on the ground. He just wants my hands to shake as I pick up the next piece and see if it is going to fit. And it does. 

After the show, I avoid him for as long as I can. I pack up my things when I know he’s in the shower and I sneak in after him, locking the door when I know he’s finished. The shower helps to relax my muscles and put me somewhat at ease. It’s a feeling that won’t last for long. Not when he finds me. 

“Zac.”

He almost purrs my name against my ear and I jump. I didn’t even hear him approaching the back of the bus. At times he can be so light on his feet that I don’t wonder if he’s mastered the art of floating. 

“What do you want, Tay?” I ask, voice shaking, as though I don’t already know.

“You,” he states, reaching back to shut the door and lock it. 

“Not tonight. I’m tired of being your plaything,” I say, turning to face him, intent on standing my ground. “Find someone else. That shouldn’t be difficult.”

My eyes drop to where he’s already got his pants down around his thighs, his hand stroking his impressive length that is straining against his fingers. “That’s what you always say. Come on, baby, you know you’re the best. No one gets me off like you do.”

It’s a ploy, Zac. It’s a ploy. He’s playing you. Don’t give in. Don’t do it. But, I do. I find myself sinking down onto my knees in front of him, the velvety smooth tip of his cock slipping between my lips as I close my eyes. My throat relaxes on instinct as his fingers push into my hair and he takes me. Even now I’m not the one in control. He uses my mouth for all that I’m worth, my hands pressed against his thighs in an effort not to choke. He likes to make me gag a bit, though. Makes him feel powerful. If my eyes water, it’s all the better. 

I hate that I love every minute of it. How forceful he is. That easy rhythm of his hips as he thrusts into my mouth, onto my waiting tongue. His taste is addictive and I give him my best. Even though I’m being used, I want to be the best. I want to be the one that can get him off better than anyone else. The one that he comes to. I’m weak. I need him. I convince myself that he needs me too.

Some nights, my mouth is enough for him. As he pulls out and rubs the tip of his dick against my lower lip, I know that this isn’t one of those nights. Not with the way he’s looking at me.

“I want you naked,” he commands. 

It’s different. Something is different. It’s another piece of the puzzle. He’s giving me something more. Something new. He’s reeling me back in because he knows I’m close to breaking. So, I do. I strip off all of my clothes and leave them in a heap on the floor, my eyes riveted to his body as he does the same. 

Instead of telling me where he wants me, he roughly shoves me down onto the couch. My knees pressed against my chest to open my body up to him. He produces lube from god knows where. He always has it on him. I’m not entirely sure that his fingers don’t just dispense it magically anytime he wants it so that he never has to worry about stashing a small bottle somewhere. He’s made of sex so it wouldn’t surprise me. Sex on legs. 

No batter how he wants it he always makes sure that I’m ready for him. That was one of the biggest pieces of the puzzle. Realizing that he didn’t want to really hurt me. He wanted it to be good for me. It was a big step and I had come to cherish it even when he- oh, fuck. 

Even when he slams into me fully without any warning like he just did. I’ve trained myself over the years not to scream. Not to draw attention to what is going on. We can never be caught for real. That would bring an end to it all and I don’t want that. At times where we are completely alone and there is no chance for someone to hear us, I’m still silent. He likes it that way. He told me so. The soft gasps of air, whimpers of pleasure, and moans that he ellicits are sexier than a full out scream so that’s what he gets. Always what he wants.

His pace is frenzied. Rough. He needs this. I can see it in his blue eyes as he stares down at me. I’m exactly what he needs right now. He pushes my legs to the side so that he can lean over me more, nearly nose to nose as he doesn’t take his eyes off me. He’s close enough to hear the soft grunt that emits from my lips every time he slams into me fully. 

His tongue just barely touches my lower lip and I come undone. Kiss me. Please god, kiss me. His hand closes down around my throat slightly and I gasp for air, clawing at his skin and feeling that intensity start to build up. I can feel his breath against my lips. A tease since he knows I barely have breath of my own. But it’s enough. i can survive on his breath. On him.

He whimpers my name as he comes. Filling me with his warmth and nearly collapsing down on top of me. Hearing my name on his lips in that way pushes me over the edge and my orgasm rips through my body even though he never touched me. Not there, at least. His fingers release my throat which causes another wave of pleasure to seize my body as air once again floods my lungs. 

When I open my eyes I expect to find him standing up and already getting dressed. He never stays long. Not when he’s gotten what he came for. There’s no need. But this time, he’s still there. He’s still leaning over me with a smile on his face and a look in his eyes. A look that I can’t place, but I never want it to go away. I want to live in it. Bathe in it. Paint it. Keep it forever.

A soft kiss on my lips makes me moan and I wrap my arms around him, trying to pull him down for more. I only get a slight taste of his tongue before he untangles himself from me and his lips find the skin above my heart. 

Now he’s getting dressed and I’m just staring at him. I can’t move. He’s never done that before and my heart has swollen a thousand times larger from that slight touch. The small bit of affection he’s afforded me. He cares. He’s not just using me. He actually cares about me. 

It doesn’t bother me when he unlocks the door and leaves me there naked, filled with his come, and panting. I’m breathless from the sex. I’m breathless from him. Every single part of me feels warm and I just lay there and revel in it for once.

Zaylor. That’s what they call us. If only they knew how right they were, but yet so wrong. After all, only one of us is in love and it isn’t him. Not yet. Someday, I will find that piece and when I put it together that will change. But for now, I will keep searching because he is my obsession.


End file.
